


Who Could Stay?

by That_stupid_girl



Series: Help Me Hold On to You [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22296088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_stupid_girl/pseuds/That_stupid_girl
Summary: "Lena is twenty-three years old when she meets Kara Danvers. She’s exactly Lena’s type, of course, but it certainly isn’t love at first sight. A lot of Lena’s life is, actually, ruled by her emotions, but she’s much too logical to subscribe to that kind of myth. So when she meets Kara, she doesn’t fall in love on sight or anything, but she can tell that she will. It feels a little like she wishes meeting Jack had felt."orThe one where Lena doesn't heal, really, but she starts to.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Samantha "Sam" Arias & Lena Luthor
Series: Help Me Hold On to You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458535
Comments: 7
Kudos: 156





	Who Could Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> this simply does not have an ending, nor does it really pay attention to anything in canon beyond like. the very basic facts.

Lena is twenty-three years old when she meets Kara Danvers. She’s exactly Lena’s type, of course, but it certainly isn’t love at first sight. A lot of Lena’s life is, actually, ruled by her emotions, but she’s much too logical to subscribe to that kind of myth. Besides, Lena hasn’t ever _really_ been in love before. What that means is that she has, but she isn’t willing to actually count Veronica Sinclair as love, and she wasn’t actually in love with Jack, even if it felt like it sometimes. 

So when she meets Kara, she doesn’t fall in love on sight or anything, but she can tell that she will. It feels a little like she wishes meeting Jack had felt. Kara actually reminds her of Jack at times, mostly in that Lena sees her as his opposite in some senses. 

For one thing, Kara is open in places Jack was closed off, and she seems to think out the same way Jack, like Lena, thinks in. More than that, though, Lena’s relationship with Kara seems like the opposite of her relationship with Jack; with Jack, Lena was practically in a relationship without having any romantic feelings, and it’s kind of the opposite with Kara. On the other hand, though, maybe Lena is just learning what Jack felt like by her side all those years. It hurts a bit. 

She tries not to think about it, which works until Jack shows up. He kisses her, and then she literally kills him, points a gun at him and pulls the trigger. The whole thing is a lot to handle. It feels like she’s lost a limb she didn’t realize she still had. 

Kara does her best to comfort her, but Lena’s not sure she even deserves to be upset about someone’s death if she’s technically the one who caused it. Besides, it’s weird for Kara to tell her she’s sorry her ex-boyfriend died—Lena doesn’t correct her there, but wonders for the first time if Kara actually doesn’t know that she’s gay—when Lena knows who Kara is (of course she does) and made the active choice of saving her, saving Supergirl, instead of saving Jack. It’s a choice she’d make again, of course, in a heartbeat, but it doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

If she tries not to think about the Supergirl part of the equation, it’s nice to spend more time with Kara, even if Kara’s clearly dealing with guilt she refuses to discuss with Lena, since that would mean admitting that she’s Supergirl. 

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Kara asks on Friday when Lena’s at her place for a movie and wine night. Lena tries to shrug from her position leaning against Kara with the other girl’s hand in her hair.

“Sure.” Kara starts to pull away, but instead pulls Lena closer. Lena can feel her frowning.

“I’m serious, Lena. What you did was really brave.” Lena swallows hard to keep herself from laughing. 

“It wasn’t brave, Kara. It was the only option.” Kara makes a noise of dissent, but continues to stroke her hair.

“You know, you can deny that you’re a hero all you want, Lena Luthor, but it doesn’t change the truth. You’re probably the best person I know.” Lena feels herself blush. For a moment she’s glad she’s facing away from Kara, but she quickly remembers that the other girl can feel every change in her body from across the city.

“Maybe you should meet more people,” Lena tries to joke. Kara does pull away then, leaving Lena little choice but to turn and face her. Kara studies her, and it looks like she wants to say something she decides against, because after a moment she just sighs, the crinkle between her eyes dissolving.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” she says. “The way everyone else does.” Lena does laugh at that.

“Let’s not get too cocky, Kara. I think there’s proof enough that not everyone feels as kindly toward me as you do.” Kara blushes slightly at that, ducking her head. Lena hopes she doesn’t hear the way her heart speeds up.

The moment is charged with something, and since Lena’s a coward she clears her throat to break the tense silence.

“I’m going to have some more wine,” she says, pushing herself off the couch and padding over to the counter. “Would you like anything?” It takes Kara a moment to answer. Lena’s already pouring wine into her own glass when Kara clears her throat.

“No. No thanks.” 

Lena sits back down, on the opposite side of the sofa from Kara. The rest of the night is a little strange. Lena can’t quite tell if it’s all in her head.

When she gets home that night, though, after she showers and gets in bed, she cries good tears thinking about what Kara said to her. _You’re probably the best person I know._ Good god, that woman is going to be the death of her.

Lena swears that she wasn’t born to fight, that she really isn’t cut out for this, but the evidence is starting to stack up against her. Regardless, every time she finds herself facing the barrel of someone’s gun or the blade of their knife, she feels more exhausted than scared. Maybe she is cut out for this, but she’s sick of it, anyway.

For instance, when a man ambushes her in the parking garage on a Wednesday proclaiming Lex’s revenge, Lena doesn’t even jump. She’s not sure if he’s supposed to be delivering a direct message from Lex or if he’s merely assuming her brother wants Lena dead. She’s not sure it really matters, but the possibility of it being only an assumption almost makes her smile anyway.

The guy’s too cocky or sadistic or stupid, and he shoots her in the upper arm, just barely, so he can get up in her face, taunt her before she dies. It doesn’t work, obviously.

Time goes a bit funny as she struggles with him for his gun. She can’t feel the bullet wound, but she’s bleeding heavily by the time she somehow gets ahold of the weapon. She shoots him in the thigh. He pulls another gun from the waist of his pants and aims it at her head. She doesn’t flinch as she shoots him in the chest, but does stumble slightly when the gun fires. 

She’s breathing hard and the man she shot is slowly losing consciousness. What a fucking mess.

She moves to try to treat the bullet wound she made, barely managing not to scream as he calls her a bitch through clenched teeth. It’s slurred enough that she almost doesn’t understand him, but it makes a frightening rage boil through her when she does.

“I didn’t want to fucking shoot you,” she mutters, trying to sound like someone other than herself. She mostly just sounds tired.

She does a poor job trying to patch up the wound, and she’s not confident he won’t die. Self-defense, she reminds herself, but the idea of her choosing her own life over his doesn’t comfort her at all. She goes to brush her hair from her face but her hands are covered in blood.

Suddenly, the pain from the bullet hits her hard and she has to sit down. It isn’t even eight in the morning. This cannot possibly bode well for the rest of the day.

Alex gets there before ~~Kara~~ Supergirl. Lena’s sitting on the floor of the parking garage covered in blood. Alex apologizes for not getting there sooner, and Lena simply laughs.

She lets the others deal with the dying assassin and allows Alex to lead her away. She feels like she might pass out from the pain and adrenaline comedown, but she walks steadily behind Alex all the way to the DEO car. She debriefs Alex as calmly as she can on the ride back, even though she knows she’ll have do it again. She assures Alex that she’s fine when they arrive, opens her door, steps out of the car, and promptly passes out. It’s to be expected, really. 

She’s in the med bay when she wakes up, with Alex beside her and Kara nowhere to be seen. Lena wishes it hurt less, but the whole “Kara’s totally not Supergirl” thing is starting to bleed into other aspects of her life and it’s simply draining. She finds herself wanting to be anything but sober, thinking about everything she could take to achieve those ends, but instead she clears her throat, smiles at Alex.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asks. Lena tries to shrug, but the hospital bed situation makes it a little difficult.

“Same old,” she says, mostly because she knows it will make Alex roll her eyes. Alex rolls her eyes. 

“You know,” Alex says, “I’d believe it, with how little you take care of yourself.” Lena wants to tell her she’s one to talk, but she also knows that Alex is completely right, so she keeps her mouth shut. 

“You should be good to go by the end of the day,” Alex says. It looks like she’s aiming for a smile, but she and Lena are still a bit awkward around each other. “I’ll drive you home unless you get worse.” 

Lena takes stock of herself for the first time since waking up. She’s still wearing her work clothes, sans jacket, which she assumes is ruined. Thank god she wore a sleeveless top today. She’s no surgeon, but she’s pretty sure the less fabric caught in a bullet wound, the better. She spots her purse on a chair across from her bed. She can’t remember whether she brought it with her, but it’s clearly here. 

Alex sees her eyeing her bag and crosses the room to grab it, then sets it on the edge of Lena’s mattress. She leaves after that, to fill out some paperwork about Lena’s new assassination attempt. The implication, Lena thinks, is that she’d been by Lena’s side the whole time she was unconscious. It might not have been that long, though, or it might not even be true, and Lena’s not willing to ask. 

Alex does drive her home that evening, though, and insists on walking Lena to her door. It makes Lena feel clean and warm, despite the throbbing in her arm. She’d thought Kara was the only one who would do something like that. 

Over the next few weeks, Kara frets about Lena’s arm every time Lena sees her. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing, but as it is, Lena just hopes Kara doesn’t notice her heart speeding up everytime Kara’s fingers flutter around the bandage. 

It surprises Lena, how little she cares that Kara hasn’t told her she’s Supergirl, even after Lena woke up in the DEO. No one’s ever quite who Lena wants them to be, except for Kara, who is more than everything. Literally, Kara is more than human, but she’s also more than everything Lena’s ever hoped for in every single way, except that she’s not in love with her, of course, but that’s Lena’s own problem. 

Anyway, Kara’s been doting on her, and Lena’s been pining and pretending she isn’t dead on her feet every day, which she is. She hadn’t realized the physical toll something like a minor bullet wound could have, so she tries to ignore it. Still, she ends up disoriented more often than she’d like to admit, which is probably how she ends up surprised by the surprise party her friends throw her.

It really is her own fault, to be fair. She did forget it was her birthday: a rookie mistake. 

Here’s how it happens: Kara invites her to game night, and Lena agrees without hesitation, as tends to happen whenever Kara asks Lena to do anything. Lena shows up at Kara’s apartment right on time. When she knocks on the door, Kara calls out that it’s open and she should come in. She opens the door to a dark apartment, the lights flick on, the room is full of people, and Lena has to school her face into something pleasantly surprised and hope no one notices her shaking hands. 

The whole thing—the surprise, the gratitude, the gifts, the talking—makes her itch for a cigarette (or something stronger), and she downs a glass of wine to try to shake the thought from her head.

Kara, of course, notices her discomfort. Sam does, too, Lena knows, but not in the same way. After everyone but Lena, Sam, Alex, and Kara have cleared out, Kara pulls her aside to apologize. It’s maybe better than any gift Lena’s ever received, which is downright pathetic, but she’s tired and gay and wine drunk and always— _always_ —a little too sad.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” she says. “I was so focused on doing a good job that I didn’t even think about whether you’d like it.” Lena almost laughs, then, but instead just shakes her head.

“Kara, seriously, don’t worry about. I loved it.” Kara looks like she’s trying to mimic the thing Lena does with her own eyebrow. That does make Lena laugh, but her face tightens back to serious when something in Kara’s eyes seems to crack.

“Okay, fine. I loved the thought. And I did have fun, kind of. Not like I only kind of had fun, just—” Lena stops to sigh, raking a hand through her hair. Sam is watching her from the other end of the room where she was supposed to be cleaning up but is instead lounging on the couch. She looks a little amused, a little sad.

“I just don’t do well when I’m supposed to be happy,” Lena says. It’s not quite right, and she knows as soon as Kara opens her mouth that she doesn’t really get it.

“You’re not supposed to be anything, Lena,” she says, and she’s so earnest that it makes Lena’s heart hurt. Lena goes to rub at her temples before she realizes she’s still holding a wine glass. The red liquid sloshes over the side and onto her hand. Kara plucks the glass from her fingers and places it on the counter. Lena wipes her hand on her pants as Kara continues her unnecessary apology. 

“I’m sorry if you felt forced into acting like you felt anything that you didn’t,” Kara says. “I should have thought more about what you would like than just what I would like.”

“No, Kara,” Lena says and wonders why they keep saying each other’s names. It makes this feel weirdly like pillow talk or a lover’s quarrel. “I did like it. I do like that you did that for me. It just throws me off, is all.”

“What? Being happy?”

“Yes,” Lena sighs, trying her best not to be annoyed at Kara’s honest confusion. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kara says, and she’s right, of course, but she’s also not. “It should be nice to be happy. You do so well under pressure. Even getting shot,” Kara explains, her hand reaching for Lena’s arm before she seems to realize what she’s doing. She pulls it away. “I know that’s not the same thing. I should have realized that.” Lena turns away from her then, just for a breath, a moment to collect herself from Kara’s eyes. She wants, more than anything, to be what this woman wants her to be. 

“I can wade grief,” Lena says instead of anything more productive, “whole pools of it— I’m used to that. But the least push of joy breaks up my feet, and I trip—drunken.” She turns back to Kara, away from Sam who looks confused. Kara looks confused, too, the crinkle between her eyebrows deep as ever.

“What does that even mean, Lena?” she asks. Lena sighs.

“It’s Emily Dickinson. Just what I’ve been trying to say,” she shrugs. Kara looks so sad, still, and when she pulls Lena in for a hug she hugs back easily.

“I really do appreciate the party,” Lena says. “I promise.” Kara nods into her shoulder, but Lena is not, ironically, surprised when Kara shows up at her office when she should be leaving work the next day to come over to cook dinner and watch TV. She gives Lena her present then, and Lena puts everything she has into not kissing her.

She’s in Sam’s apartment a few weeks later and she’s thinking about Kara. She’s pretty much always thinking about Kara, to be fair, unless she’s thinking about how to solve farming problems or how to mass-purify water, and thinking about that never goes as far as she wants it to.

So, she’s thinking about Kara, and that’s normal, but this time she’s with Sam, and Sam knows her shockingly well for the short amount of time they’ve actually spent in each other’s presence over the years. Ruby’s in her room finishing her homework while Sam makes dinner and Lena, of course, sits at the counter and pretends she doesn’t have a disgustingly lovesick look on her face.

“Okay,” Sam finally says, setting the spoon down on the cutting board and turning toward Lena. Sam leans back against the counter, her elbows jutting out behind her, and fixes Lena with a steady stare. Lena, for her part, does her best to look confused.

“Spill,” Sam says, moving to cross her arms over her chest.

“Spill what?” Lena asks. Sam continues to stare at her. After a moment, she sighs, deflates her stiff posture a little.

“Seriously, Lena? I’ve been here for a month and I haven’t said anything about one Kara Danvers. I want you to talk to me.”

“About what?” Lena asks, though she hates herself for this poor show of confusion.

Sam groans. “Jesus, we’re not in college anymore. About how you _like_ her, Lena. About how you think she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and how you want to buy her anything she considers wanting and how you go beet red when she tells you you’ve done something good and how you want her to bend you over your desk and—”

“Sam!” Lena knows she’s the kind of red Sam was describing, if only by the self-satisfied smirk on her friend’s face, and she doesn’t refrain from hiding her face in her hands as Sam starts to laugh at her. Sam pushes herself off the counter and moves to stir the pasta sauce on the stove, which thankfully gives Lena a moment to compose herself.

“Okay,” she says, and doesn't continue. Sam looks toward her, raises her eyebrows. “Okay! Okay, yes, I’m in— I like Kara. So what?” Lena says and hopes Sam doesn’t notice her slip. If the way she’s looking at Lena is anything to go by, though, then she definitely did. 

“And?” Sam says. 

“And what?” Lena asks, stopping herself from throwing her hands up. “There’s no ‘and,’” Lena mutters, though there is kind of an “and,” in Kara being Supergirl and all.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Sam clarifies, turning the flame off under the pasta and moving to drain it over the sink.

“I’m not doing anything about it.” Lena hates how much she sounds like a petulant child, the pathetic finality in her voice, but Sam only sighs.

“Sam, it’s—” Lena sighs, too, runs a hand through her hair. “It’s complicated,” she finishes. It’s lame, but it’s the truth. 

“It’s complicated? What does that even mean?”

Lena shrugs. She doesn’t really have much of answer, or she does, but the answer is that Kara is Supergirl and Lena is Lena _Luthor_ and Lena maybe doesn’t know how to ever be happy and Kara deserves something better than her even beyond the shit with her brother and Kara would never even like her in the first place.

She can’t say any of that, though, because Sam hates when Lena acts like it’s her responsibility to atone for her family, which it is, and Lena’s not even supposed to know that Kara’s Supergirl, so it’s not like she can talk about that with Sam, so instead she says, “It’s just complicated.”

“It’s complicated like she’s dating someone? It’s complicated like she’s said she doesn’t want a relationship?” Sam pauses, turns toward Lena holding a colander of steaming water dripping water on the floor. “Or is it complicated like you’re under the impression that you don’t deserve anything remotely good?”

“Sam,” Lena pleads. She knows her face is doing something stupid and desperate, but even so Sam holds steady for another moment before she turns to balance the colander on top of the empty pot. 

“Okay. You know I’m always here to talk, though. Right?” She looks back at Lena, who nods, because she does.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Lena. Do you want to go tell Ruby dinner’s ready?” Lena sits still for a moment, but then she nods, pushes herself off the stool. She loves Sam more than words can describe, but this isn’t something she can talk about. It’s all so complicated, really.

Or maybe it’s not, but there’s the fact that Kara hasn’t even told her that she’s Supergirl. Lena’s gone through countless reasons for that in her head, and she’s mostly over any hurt of it, but it still adds just one more layer that Lena has to think through. She tries to ignore it all as she knocks on Ruby’s half open door. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she says, schooling her face into a convincing smile.

Sam doesn’t say anything when they get back to the kitchen, but she hugs Lena for a little too long before she leaves that evening. 

Kara tells Lena she’s Supergirl on a Tuesday. It’s also the day Lena’s brother orders another hit on her, and Kara—in her civilian clothes—ends up in both the literal and metaphorical crossfire. 

In a literal sense, one of Lena’s hopeful assassins points a gun at Kara, and Lena throws herself in front of her, despite her bloodied face and throbbing ribs. She knows, even as she’s jumping, that Kara is bulletproof, but she also knows that she’s survived being shot before and that the world needs Supergirl—that people need _Kara_ —a whole lot more than anyone needs her. 

She doesn’t actually get shot, of course, because Kara pulls her away, because Kara is Supergirl and therefore Super strong and Super fast, and Kara takes the men out in a not quite human fashion while Lena watches from beside her desk. The whole thing’s kind of lot.

After, but before Lena gets her ribs checked and before they take Lex’s lackeys back to the DEO and before Alex shows up, Kara tells her. She turns to Lena, who’s looking at her without the least bit of surprise, and frowns.

“I’m Supergirl,” Kara says, and her voice wobbles in a way that Lena’s never heard when she’s wearing the cape. Lena gives her a soft smile, despite the circumstances.

“I know, Kara,” she says, because what else is there to say? “Thank you for telling me,” she adds. Kara’s frown deepens. Lena’s heartbeat picks up and she feels suddenly like her stomach might drop out.

“How long have you known?” Kara asks. Lena shrugs, going for nonchalant even though she feels like her knees might buckle all of a sudden.

“A while,” she says. “Pretty much from the start. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was worried you wouldn’t keep being my friend if you knew I knew,” she says. Honesty seems like it might be the way to go, right now. Kara just shakes her head, though.

“Right. So you knew I was Supergirl twenty minutes ago, and you still thought it was a good idea to jump in front of me when someone pointed a gun at me? Are you fucking stupid?” Lena flinches harder than she means to, but she’s never heard Kara yell like that before. She’s not sure she’s even heard her swear like that. So, yes, she flinches harder than she means to, and Kara deflates at Lena’s hunched shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Lee,” she says. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m not mad at— Rao, of course I’m not mad at you. There’s no way I could be mad at you, but that was, that was really stupid. I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt because of me.” Kara’s been looking at Lena as she talks, but it doesn’t seem like she’s really paying much attention to what she’s saying. She pauses, then, refocuses on Lena’s face as the crinkle forms between her eyebrows.

“You thought I would stop being your friend?” Kara asks, incredulous. “If I knew that you knew that I was keeping a huge secret from you?” Lena stops herself from wincing this time, at Kara’s comment about keeping secrets. Kara’s not the only one keeping a part of herself wrapped up; though being in love with Kara means a lot less than Kara being Supergirl in the grand scheme of things, it arguably affects Kara more than the Supergirl thing affects Lena. Or, well, it would if Lena ever planned to do anything about it.

Lena shrugs herself out of that rabbit hole, almost able to meet Kara’s eyes.

“Just, you know,” she says, “it’s your secret to tell, and if you were only friends with me to keep tabs, then me knowing would totally defeat the purpose.” Kara’s looking at her like she’s slipped into French or Irish, and Lena even starts to replay her words in her head just to make sure they’re actually what she thought she was saying. “Because of Lex?” Lena clarifies, and her voice doesn’t even falter on his name. She’ll count it as a win, that she can say her brother’s name even shaking from the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

“Lena.” Kara’s voice is dripping in something that makes Lena’s entire chest crack open. “I’m not— I’m friends with you because you are one of the best people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” When Lena doesn’t answer immediately, Kara continues. “You know I care about you more than anything, right? You didn’t actually think I was only friends with you to keep tabs on you.” It’s more of a warning than a question, the way Kara phrases it, but Lena answers anyway.

“I, well, no. I mean,” Lena shrugs, her face burning more than she’d like it to be, “only sometimes.” At the way Kara’s face falls, she rushes to continue. “Not logically, Kara. Just when I’m not thinking right.”

Kara’s still staring at her, head cocked slightly to one side, an unreadable expression on her face that feels, to Lena, like heartbreak. She shakes her head slightly, takes a deep breath.

“Well, that’s not true,” Kara says. There’s a finality in her tone that feels strange coupled with the faux-cheeriness, but it almost makes Lena smile anyway. “I hope you don’t even think that again,” she says, softer, and pulls Lena in for a hug that she doesn’t even pretend to resist.

“Whatever you say, Supergirl.” It’s a cheap attempt to lighten the mood, and Lena knows that Kara knows it, too, but the other woman laughs anyway. Her arms tighten around Lena, one hand squeezing her shoulder. Lena hates herself for wanting to stay in this moment forever. 

They get closer after that, if there’s even any closer they can get. It’s mostly that Lena finds it nice to know—or at least hope strongly enough to believe—that Kara’s not lying to her. And it is nice, to have Kara say sorry, but she has to duck out to deal with a fire downtown instead of making up some excuse about Alex or a lead on an article. It’s nice when she asks Lena to wait for her instead of asking for a raincheck, and it’s nice when Lena leaves her balcony doors open so she won’t have to get up to let Kara back in.

“How was it?” Lena asks when she hears Kara come back in less than twenty minutes later. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen as Kara makes her way over to Lena’s couch. 

“I mean, it was hot,” Kara laughs, taking a seat beside Lena. She’s back in her Kara clothes, but she smells a little like bonfire smoke. Lena’s head goes to two places at once: back to the bonfires they’d have in high school, pretending she’s not glued to Veronica’s side, and also to an image of Kara, in her Supergirl uniform, lifting burning beams. It sends a flush down her neck that she hopes Kara doesn’t notice. Hot indeed, she manages not to say.

“Save a lot of lives?” Lena asks as she places her phone face-down beside her.

“I mean, a few,” Kara says, awkward like she’s been about the Supergirl stuff ever since she and Lena started openly talking about it. Lena looks up at her then, and she can see Kara notice the smirk on her face, the twinkle in her eye. Kara rolls her eyes.

“Just start the movie,” she says, and Lena complies easily, though she doesn’t drop the smile from her face. 

When they finish the movie, it’s late enough that she knows that they should both be getting to bed. What this means is that she thinks it’s time for Kara to go home to get some sleep and leave Lena to do a couple hours of work before she crashes some time before two. Kara doesn’t necessarily seem to agree.

“Lee, please tell me you’re actually going to bed after I leave.” Kara’s voice is low and slow, like she’s talking to a child or coaxing someone off a ledge. Lena shrugs, and Kara’s gaze tightens. Lena laughs, though she knows Kara could obliterate her with a glare if she wanted, and raises her hands in mock surrender.

“Yes, yes, okay. I will go to bed.” Kara clearly, doesn’t believe her, but, well, she’s not _technically_ lying. She will go to bed some time after Kara leaves. “I promise,” she adds. It feels a little cheap, but it’s a harmless lie. 

Kara finally acquiesces, but she helps Lena clean up from their dinner before she leaves. Tomorrow’s a Friday, which means they both have work—though Lena always has work, and Kara also, technically, always has work, even if that work is saving the city—but Lena’s supposed to come by Kara’s after she leaves work to hang out. It’s not technically a game night because too many of their friends gave vague answers about their availability, but Lena still gets that rush of warmth from simply being invited to something, so it’s not like she really cares.

Lena still, too, gets that rush of anxiety when she stands outside Kara’s door knowing that Kara’s friends are on the other side, but when she finally gets to Kara’s around ten, she knocks without hesitation despite the annoying churning in her gut. 

Kara opens the door within a few seconds and immediately pulls Lena into a hug. It doesn’t make the automatic anxiety dissipate, but it brings back the warmth that comes with an invitation, and Lena’s glad to be here. She’s always glad to be with Kara, of course, especially as the woman pours Lena a glass of wine before Lena even has her jacket off. She accepts it gratefully and heads toward Kara’s living room.

It really is most of the usual group, Lena notices: Alex, Lucy, Winn, and Nia. She takes a seat on the couch next to Kara. She’s exhausted, even more than usual, and she tries to focus on doing anything other than sinking into the couch and simply disintegrating. Kara’s rubbing her shoulder while she talks to Lucy, and it makes the same guilty softness spread through Lena as every other time she thinks about being in love with Kara.

Nia leaves early, and Lena’s been there for about two hours when Lucy asks if anyone wants to smoke. Lena’s so used to people—read: Sam and Jack—not even talking about anything other than alcohol around her that it takes her a moment to even realize what Lucy means. It takes her another moment to get over the pang that remembering how Jack simply stopped getting high when he and Lena moved in together sends through her chest, but that’s beside the point.

Kara says no thanks, of course; Lena’s not sure what weed would even do to an alien. Lena says nothing, and isn’t sure whether she’d prefer that Lucy assume she wants in or out. Either way, she can feel something weird building up in her chest. 

Lucy pulls a joint out from god knows where, and as Kara pushes her toward the windows to at least open them, Lena tries to school her face into something neutral. It’s just pot. She’s not some fucking nark. It’s not like she can’t be in a room with people smoking. It’s more that she hasn’t had to be, since she decided to stop getting high all the time, and she’s only now realizing how complicated it all is. 

Or, it’s really not, but it’s not like she _really_ had an addiction that she overcame. Yes, she spent about three straight years and quite a bit of change high out of her mind, but it’s not like she’s not on her third drink of the day right now. It’s not like she’s all that great now, and it’s not like it killed her in the first place. It’s not like she couldn’t have sank lower, found a new rock bottom.

It’s such a fucked up thing to think, and she knows it, but sometimes she wishes she’d just kept going. Because it’s easier a lot of the time, of course, but also because of how hard it is to continue like that, how awful she always felt. There’s a part of her—and it is a pretty large part—that truly believes she was never bad enough to claim that stopping was recovery and not just a change of daily routine, a mid-year resolution like going to the gym. 

Lucy holds the joint out to Lena across Kara’s body. There’s something about it all—the expectation, the sharing, the actual paper joint—that all feels suspiciously high school. Lena’s mouth goes dry at the thought of saying no to the weed Lucy’s offering her, and she shakes her head anyway. 

“No thanks,” she says. She can feel herself getting weird, knows how she gets with her anxiety about certain things. “I have more work when I get home,” she adds, which only makes it worse, because now Kara’s looking at her like she’s the most ridiculously stupid person alive, and Lena’s taking the joint to pass it to Winn, and it feels like something in her whole body clicks out of place. Everything’s fine, though. It’s all fine, Lena tells herself, even as she’s aware of how tense her entire body is, how Alex and Lucy both keep looking at her and Kara’s still rubbing her shoulder. 

The apartment smells like weed for the rest of the night. Lena knows that she should have gotten used to the smell, that she’s likely imagining still being able to smell it so strongly, but it makes her feel weird. She knows she’s horribly tense for the rest of the night and that her mind is clearly elsewhere, but thankfully no one says anything.

She makes up an excuse to leave—which isn’t really even made up, since she should be up in less than seven hours and weekends are the time she pretends she lets herself catch up on sleep—about an hour later and hopes that she thinks she’s acting a lot weirder than she is. Kara hugs her a bit too tentatively, though, and looks at Lena like she wants to ask her something, and it makes Lena’s heart drop to her stomach. She needs to get better at being around things. It’s not like it should be this hard. She’s being pathetic.

She goes to bed immediately when she gets home. She takes double the melatonin she’s supposed to right after she walks through her door, then changes clothes, doesn’t take off her makeup, and climbs into bed and closes her eyes, trying to think about anything other than how she acted like a ridiculous thirteen year old who’s too much of a pussy to either smoke or admit to never having smoked before.

Lena’s next week is a little bit utterly hellish. On Monday, something goes wrong with the final test of a product they’re supposed to be releasing in ten days, and that somehow acts as a catalyst for literally everything else going wrong.

Okay, so that’s a bit dramatic, but someone pulls out of a merger on Tuesday and Lena has to fire someone for harassment on Thursday, and in addition to putting out all the usual fires and everything caused by the product failure, Lena’s at the office for almost a hundred hours from just Monday to Friday, not even including the work she did on the weekend. She’s more exhausted than usual, but she tries her best to still make time to see Kara, who stops by on Monday with coffee before Lena even gets report of the product failure, and again for lunch on Thursday.

When Kara comes into her office with a bag of food including a salad for Lena and three sandwiches and a full bag of chips for herself, Lena does her best to pretend she’s not about to tear her hair out. She tries, too, to pretend that this isn’t the first thing she’s eaten since Jess practically force-fed her a veggie burger and trail mix before she left on Tuesday evening. Since it’s Kara, though, and since she’s Lena, Kara probably suspects as much, assuming Jess didn’t outright tell her.

Still, Lena is hungry, and the salad is good, and it’s nice to take a break for even a few minutes. 

“I wish you weren’t so busy,” Kara says after inhaling a sandwich. Lena doesn’t wince at the twinge of guilt, but she does feel it.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I hope I’ll have more time next week. This week’s just been insane.” Kara’s shaking her head before Lena’s even done speaking, though.

“No, Lee, I mean I wish you weren’t so busy because I hate seeing you so exhausted and overwhelmed,” Kara explains, and despite the rush of affection Lena’s first instinct is still to deny that’s she’s anything but on top of everything. 

“Oh, well,” she says because she’s never known how to acknowledge people caring about her, not that she’s had much practice. “Things should calm down tomorrow.” 

Kara brightens a bit at that and asks Lena if she wants to come out with her friends after she gets off work tomorrow. Lena hesitates, not sure that she’ll really be up for it but fairly unable to say no to Kara.

“Come on, Lee. Please?” Kara says, and the puppy dog eyes are out, and Lena caves within seconds. 

“Oh, God,” she sighs. “Okay. I’ll probably get off around ten.” 

“You’re the boss,” Kara says. “You can leave whenever you want.” Lena rolls her eyes and stabs a forkful of salad.

“Well, then as my boss, I’ll keep me here until ten and then let me leave.” Kara glares at her, but it has no steel. Lena simply laughs, finishes her salad, and asks Jess to order her another coffee after Kara leaves. 

Friday is hard, and Lena’s on edge all day, which isn’t anything new, and it’s mild enough that she doesn’t even consider not heading to the bar after she leaves work. Besides, she’s glad to be hanging out with Kara and her friends.

Still, she can’t seem to shake her day off. Nothing bad happened, but she has so much to do, and she can’t realistically do it all. She’ll still try of course, and likely succeed, but it’s technically more than one person—or really more than three people—should be doing.

Even though Lena feels like there’s something crawling under her skin that doesn’t quite itch, the night is nice. She likes hanging out with Kara’s friends, at least for the most part. Despite the fact that they’ve both saved each other’s lives now, Alex still puts Lena on edge, especially since Lena’s sure that Alex knows she still sometimes talks to Maggie.

It’s not like Alex is antagonistic toward her or anything, but Lena always gets the feeling like Alex sees something in her that Kara doesn’t: an ability to lie through her teeth or the potential in her to live up to her family name, maybe. It isn’t a big problem, but it makes Lena’s stomach twist enough that she’s glad to be sitting across from Winn and beside Kara.

“How was your day?” Kara asks as Lena slips back into the booth beside her, setting the drinks she was carrying down on the table. Kara’s looking at her as intently as she always is, and Lena hopes the bar’s dim lighting is enough to hide her blush. 

“Oh, you know,” she says, light and airy and false, “signed a few papers, ruined a few careers, same old.” It makes Kara snort and Winn laugh from across the table, almost spitting out his beer. It wasn’t that funny, really, but Lena’s glad she has the ability to make these people laugh.

“Well, I got to watch Kara train with J’onn today,” Winn says. “It was cool to see Kara get her ass kicked. That doesn’t happen everyday.” Winn’s grinning, watching Kara out of the corner of his eye. Lena laughs, a bit too loud, as Kara hisses at him to shut up. Alex shoots her a look from the other side of the table that Lena can’t read, but Lena keeps laughing anyway.

A couple drinks in, James is teasing Alex about his sister whom Alex, evidently, chickened out of inviting. Her face is redder than Lena’s ever seen. Not that Lena would ever say it to her face or anything, but she’s a bit thankful for Alex’s embarrassment. It humanizes the agent in a way Lena hasn’t really seen, since she mostly sees her at one of their workplaces or on Kara’s turf.

Winn starts talking about what he thinks is going to happen in the next _Avengers_ movie, and though most of the table has seen the last one, he’s the only one who cares _that_ much. Lena hasn’t even seen the movie—she’s bad at keeping up with them—, but she read so many comics as a child. It makes her smile to see Winn pull theories out of thin air.

Lena’s three drinks and two glasses of water in and really needs to pee, but she doesn’t want to miss the conversation. It’s nice to feel a part of something instead of apart from something. It gets to where she’s almost squirming eventually, though, so she starts to slip out of the boot.

“I’ll be right back,” she says. “I really have to pee.” 

“Me too. I’ll come with,” Alex announces. Lena feels a twinge of anxiety, but it’s not like Alex is going to jump her in a stall, so she waits for the agent to get up from her seat before walking to the bathroom.

There’s a group of girls washing their hands when she and Alex walk in, but the stalls are all free. Lena takes a moment as she buttons her pants to try to gauge how drunk she is, and she thinks she’s still pretty sober. Drinking without the end goal of getting completely fucked up is still a bit foreign to her, but she thinks she’s handling it well.

She steps out of her stall before Alex. The group of girls are still there, but now they’re doing lines off the side of the sink. It makes Lena’s mouth go dry. She can almost feel the sting in her sinuses. She didn’t think it would bother her like this after four years.

When Alex walks out of the stall beside her, Lena’s still standing there with her heart in her throat. She tries to shake herself out of it but her head feels cloudy. Alex gives her a weird look. Lena considers how easy it would be to wash her hands, leave with Alex, and tell her she forgot something in the bathroom, how easy it would be to slip back in and buy a line off those girls.

Alex is rolling her eyes at the women at the sink now, but she doesn’t say anything even though Lena knows she has her fake FBI badge in her pocket. Lena swallows, sharp, around the realization that she doesn’t trust herself in this bathroom, let alone this building, and is out the door before Alex turns back around. She doesn’t even wash her hands.

Her fingers drum a quick beat against her thigh as she pushes her way out of the bar. She feels just on the edge of an anxiety attack as she looks around her, all the lights focusing a little too sharply. As she crosses the street toward a convenience store on the corner, she doesn’t care that she’s jay walking or that one of her friends could have followed her or that every second person in this city recognizes her on sight.

She shoulders the door to the store open, stepping into the quiet fluorescence. Her fingers continue their pattern against her thigh as she asks the cashier for a pack of Marlboro Reds. She sounds nervous—far more nervous than she ever sounded handing over her fake ID to buy cigarettes in high school. 

She starts to slide her card before she remembers she doesn’t carry a lighter around anymore, and has to apologize to the cashier as she steps away to grab the first one she sees. He shrugs like he doesn’t care, which he almost definitely doesn’t, but Lena feels the whole thing building in her throat, anyway.

She has the package unwrapped before she even steps out of the store, but it takes her a minute to pinch the first cigarette out of the silver wrapping.

Stepping away from the light over the shop door, she relaxes with the first inhale, despite the acrid taste. She knows it’s more psychosomatic than anything, but she closes her eyes and tries not to hate herself for reverting to this. The lesser of two evils is still evil, of course, but it’s better than nothing. Nothing, in this instance, being doing coke in the bathroom of a bar while her friends are in the other room. She thinks about calling her therapist, but she already has an appointment for Tuesday.

She’s only a few drags in but is already starting to feel the tingling lightness in her hands when she sees Alex crossing the street toward her. Her first instinct is to crush the cigarette and pretend she hasn’t been smoking, but Alex can clearly see her, and Lena’s sure she already smells like an ashtray, anyway.

“I did not think you smoked,” Alex says instead of a greeting. Lena laughs, but it’s a little nervous. She’s feeling a little manic from the anxiety of it all.

“You know, I’d like to be able to say that I don’t, but I feel like you wouldn’t believe me right now.” She punctuates her point by flicking ash onto the sidewalk. Alex smiles at her joke, but she clearly doesn’t understand what Lena’s doing here. She leans against the side of the building, half in shadow, as Lena finishes her cigarette. She puts it out on the building beside her and drops the butt on the windowsill to her left, unwilling to leave it on the sidewalk.

Lena would like to be able to convince Alex that she isn’t totally losing it, but her fingers start to fidget as soon as she’s standing there with nothing to do, and she finds herself opening the package to pull another out without really being able to stop herself. Alex waits another couple minutes, watching Lena blow smoke away from her.

“So, do you want to explain what exactly—”

“I’m sorry,” Lena cuts her off, rubbing the side of her nose, hard, with her free hand. “You don’t have to stand out here with me. You should go back inside.” Alex gets the same furrow between her eyebrows as Kara does when she’s confused. Lena hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m already out here,” Alex says. It sounds a bit like she thinks Lena’s stupid, but maybe she’s just trying to understand what’s going on. “I just, um.” She pauses, like she’s trying to think of the kindest way to word what she’s thinking. “I just don’t totally get what’s going on. I’ve never seen you smoke before.” Lena laughs again, humorless this time.

“Well, I don’t typically advertise it when I do. Kind of undermines a lot of my public image.” The crinkle between Alex’s eyes deepens. Lena sighs. “It’s an old habit. I only do it when I’m especially stressed.”

“Did you just have a bad day or is this about the coke in the bathroom?” And, look, Lena would prefer if Kara and Kara’s friends didn’t know about her past tense cocaine habit, but she isn’t going to blatantly lie about it either. Still, she isn’t particularly eager to explain this to Alex. She crushes the rest of her cigarette even though she still has a few more drags before it burns down to the filter and pulls another out, but she waits to light it.

“A bit of an off day, but yes. This is about the coke in the bathroom.” She turns away from Alex to light up. There’s a slight nausea building in her stomach, and her throat’s starting to sting a bit. She coughs lightly to clear it.

“Do you have bad experiences with people on drugs?” Alex asks. It takes Lena a moment to realize that Alex doesn’t understand. “I remember you got weird with the pot, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Alex rushes to add. “I just noticed it, and Kara did too, but she said you hadn’t mentioned anything to her, so I kind of forgot about it. I don’t know if Lex did a lot of drugs or if it’s something else or what, but, you know, if it makes you…” Alex shrugs. Lena wants to laugh.

“It’s fine if you don’t like being around that. I know people on drugs can do weird things, and I know those girls made you uncomfortable. I can say something next time.” Lena does laugh then. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Alex thinks she doesn’t trust _other_ people, and the thought of Lex on drugs is amusing in and of itself.

“Oh my god. Does everyone think I’m—” Lena stops to sigh, taking a drag of her cig as she runs her other hand through her hair. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, Alex. It makes me want to do cocaine.” Alex’s eyebrows shoot up. Lena can see her mentally stepping back.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Lena nods, trying to avoid the shame she feels crawling up her spine.

“Oh. That’s— Oh. That actually makes a lot more sense.” Lena puts out the rest of her cigarette and tucks her hands under her arms. “But you don’t, um…” Lena smiles softly, shaking her head.

“No. If I still did coke, I would have just bought some off of them instead of acting like a stupid child,” Lena says. Alex’s eyebrows start to draw back together. She opens her mouth, but Lena shakes her head, waving her off, before she can speak.

“No,” Lena says again. “It’s been a while. I didn’t actually think it would bother me that much.” 

“I think it makes sense that it bothers you,” Alex says. Lena only shrugs. 

“Either way,” she says, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here and everything. You really can go back, though. I promise I’m fine.” Alex doesn’t look like she particularly agrees with Lena.

“Yeah. That’s not gonna happen.” 

“Seriously, I’m probably just going to head home,” Lena says, hating herself more with every second Alex stands out in the semi-cold with her. Alex shakes her head.

“Yeah, no. I feel like I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I left you alone right now.” And, look, Lena will admit that she has a bit of a thing about people calling her their friend, that she cares enough about what Alex thinks about her that the sentence almost makes her tear up right there on the sidewalk, but she mostly hesitates because that’s simply not something people do for her. Jack’s done it before, but she knows how well that relationship turned out, so besides Sam, Kara’s the only person Lena could even fathom would leave a night with friends just because Lena freaks out about some cocaine.

Alex seems to take her silence as something other than the weird gratitude that it is, though, and she adds, “If you really want to be alone, obviously I won’t not let you.” 

“No,” Lena sighs. “It’s okay. I’m just sorry to ruin your night.” 

“Well, you’re not. So, guess we’re fine there.” 

They stand there in silence for a few moments, with Lena’s hands still tucked under her arms and Alex leaning against the side of the stone building, then Alex pushes herself away from the wall and clears her throat. 

“Do you want to order a car?” she asks. “I’ll go grab my jacket and let Kara know we’re heading out.” Lena can only nod, so she pulls out her phone to order a Lyft as Alex crosses the street back toward the bar. She thinks, for a moment, about calling her driver, but she hates to bother him this late at night, especially on a Friday, and she’s sure that would be a little much. 

The car arrives before Alex comes back out of the bar, and Lena apologizes to the driver as she waits awkwardly on the sidewalk for Alex, who walks out of the bar moments later with Kara trailing behind her. Lena feels a sharp surge of something that’s either anxiety or affection.

“Hey,” Alex says when she’s back across the street. “Kara wanted to leave, too.” Lena takes note of her wording, that she doesn’t say that Kara was worried or annoyed. She appreciates it, even if it’s obvious. 

Lena takes the front seat because she doesn’t think she wants to be pressed up against either of them in a car right now, and Kara and Alex slide into the backseat. 

“Do you want to just go home?” Alex asks. “Or do you want to go back to Kara’s?”

“We can watch a movie,” Kara offers, and her voice sounds a bit too soft.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want,” Lena says, because she’s not sure what the right answer is.

“Let’s do that, then,” Alex says, and Lena asks the driver to change the destination, rattling off Kara’s address like it’s her own.

The car ride is quiet, broken only by the soft pop music the driver’s playing on the radio, and Lena is horribly aware of how much she must smell like cigarettes right now. 

When they get to Kara’s apartment, Kara offers Lena a change of clothes. Lena accepts, goes to the bathroom to change, strips out of her work clothes, and washes her hands and face vigorously with Kara’s hand soap before she puts on the soft t-shirt and sweatpants Kara offered her. She looks at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath, then folds her clothes loosely and leaves the bathroom.

When Lena comes back into the living room, Kara’s on the couch and Alex is diagonally across from her in a chair. Lena puts her folded clothes on the table and takes a seat near Kara on the other side of the couch. Lena doesn’t pay much attention as Alex and Kara decide to just put on an episode of _The Great British Baking Show_ , but she’s still happy with the choice. Why Alex and Kara, who really can’t cook to save their lives, especially Kara, watch this show is totally beyond her, but Lena’s always enjoyed it. 

Kara gets up a few minutes in to make an obscene amount of popcorn, and Lena finds that she isn’t hungry despite having eaten a whole of _maybe_ four meals this week. She eats about a handful of the popcorn, and Alex leaves after the episode ends. She texts Lena almost as soon as she’s out the door, though, that she cares about her and she hopes she’s okay even if Alex doesn’t want to overstep. It makes her mouth pucker, the combination of the embarrassment and the gratitude and trying not to smile.

Lena sits silently through another episode. When it ends, Kara doesn’t let the screen change to the next episode. Instead, she pauses the show and turns toward Lena.

“Are you okay, Lee?” she asks, and her voice is too soft, like she thinks Lena will lash out at the implication that she’s ever anything but completely fine and put together.

“I’m fine,” Lena says, because what else can she say? “Sorry,” she adds. Kara just shakes her head.

“I don’t care that you wanted to leave or that you basically haven’t said a single thing since the car, I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better.” Kara sounds so helpless, like she’d actually give anything to have Lena just be happy. It makes something crack, in Lena’s throat or her sternum, and she swallows, hard.

“I’m okay, Kara. I’m sorry. I just…” She does, kind of, want to tell her, but it isn’t Kara’s problem, and it’s not something she needs to worry about, and it’s not something anyone even needs to worry about anymore, because it isn’t a problem and Lena’s simply overreacting. 

“It’s fine,” Lena says. “Please don’t worry about it. It isn’t your problem.”

“Please don’t do that,” Kara sighs. Lena tenses, wants to ask her what she’s talking about even though she knows Kara will hate it.

“Do what?” she asks anyway, staring straight ahead at the frozen screen, back straight and voice level enough that she feels bad.

“Lena.”

She looks over to Kara, then, who’s looking at her like she doesn’t want to think she’s broken. It’s enough to bother Lena, but it’s so honest, and it’s _Kara_ , so she simply deflates. Her fingers rake through her hair and she drops her head into her hands, for just a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“Don’t apologize,” Kara practically cries. Lena doesn’t flinch, just raises her head and leans back, pushing against her knees.

“Don’t apologize,” Kara repeats. “Talk to me? Please?” Lena sighs, makes up her mind that she will, but Kara continues before she can. “Alex said something happened in the bathroom, but she wouldn’t tell me what she meant.” 

“There were just some girls doing coke in the bathroom,” Lena says, level but still relaxed. “I reacted a bit too strongly, clearly.” Lena hopes that Kara will somehow just _get it_ without her having to explain anything, but she knows that’s a ridiculously high hope.

“Cocaine?” Kara says. The crinkle’s appeared between Kara’s eyes now. Lena nods.

“I don’t—” Kara starts. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not following.” 

Lena pauses just a moment, but she knows that this is it. From now on, Kara knows how wrong she is about thinking that Lena is good, even superficially. 

“I used to do stuff like that,” she says. It’s a futile wish, that keeping it vague will make it less real, but she subscribes to it anyway. “And I stopped, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t. And it— Um. It caught me off guard to actually see, is all.” 

She can’t look at Kara when she finishes her pathetic explanation, can’t stand to see whatever kind of pity or disgust or, God forbid, acceptance is on her face.

“Stuff like that? You used to do stuff like cocaine?”

Lena still won’t look at her, but she makes herself sigh. She doesn’t realize that she’s annoyed until she starts speaking, that she’s a little drunk. “Yes, Kara, I used to do a lot of cocaine and molly and Adderall and Ritalin and Xanax, which was pointless, and acid and ketamine a few times and salvia once, which was awful, and obviously pot.” She sounds angrier than she means to, and she can tell without looking that Kara is staring at her like she’s insane. She can’t help but deflate. “I’m sorry,” she adds, though she knows it doesn’t help.

She won’t look at Kara. She hears the other woman moving, feels a hand hovering over her shoulder, but Kara, presumably, pulls her arm back.

“What are you sorry for, Lee?” 

Lena can only shake her head. “I don’t know.” She pushes up off the couch and is halfway across the room quickly enough that it almost scares her.

“I don’t know! I don’t know why I’m so— I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m sorry.” She paces a few more steps, then drops into the chair farthest from Kara. Lena still won’t look at her. She hangs her head, clasps her hands behind her neck. She can hear the whirring of Kara’s fridge. 

Kara doesn’t say anything for a good moment, but Lena can feel her looking at her.

“You know I think you’re perfect, right?” Kara finally says. Lena can’t help but bark out a laugh. She looks up at Kara then, hunched over with her elbows on her knees, probably looking like she’s seconds away from crying. Kara meets her eyes immediately, as earnest as Lena’s ever seen her. Lena holds her gaze until she can’t anymore. Her eyes drop to a folder tucked on the shelves under Kara’s coffee table.

“That’s ridiculous, Kara,” she says. She hopes it doesn’t come off as cold as it feels. 

Kara only shrugs.

“Well, it’s true. I think you’re perfect, and I don’t know why you refuse to understand that nothing will change that.” 

“Nothing?” Lena asks, arching an eyebrow as glances up toward Kara and the crinkle between her eyes. Kara’s face doesn’t budge.

“Very funny,” she says. Lena sighs and it’s quiet again.

“Come sit?” Kara asks a moment later. Lena looks up, doesn’t move. Kara pats the couch beside her. “Please?” 

And it’s not like Lena can be expected to say no to _that_ , so she hesitates, nods, pushes herself out of the chair and sits tentatively next to Kara, who sighs and gently— _gently_ —pulls Lena toward her so she’s leaning against Kara. Not for the first time, Lena hopes that Kara’s Kryptonian senses don’t work as well as everyone claims. Her heart might literally beat out of her chest.

“You know you’re not going to scare me away, right?” Kara asks. “You can try, but it won’t work.” Lena’s heart clenches at that, something too tight to be a flutter. She’s never thought of it before, but something in the rush of nauseous guilt she feels at Kara’s claim makes her realize that she has been trying, or at least is trying right now. That she’d rather get it all out at once, in the worst way possible, just to see if Kara runs.

“I’m not trying to scare you off,” Lena says anyway, even though it isn’t true. “I just, I don’t like to talk about, um. I don’t like to talk about it,” she shrugs, because what else can she say?

“Talk about what?” Kara asks. Her hand is running a soothing pattern across Lena’s shoulder, but she’s not letting her get out of this. Lena shrugs, awkward in Kara’s semi-hold.

“I don’t know. All of it. Veronica, Jack, Lex, boarding school, Ian, Ashley. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. Having to explain all of this to Kara, having to have Kara realize that Lena isn’t really the woman she is when Kara’s beside her, is more than she can really take.

“I don’t know who most of those people are,” Kara says. “Veronica Sinclair?” Lena can hear it, the forced casuality in her voice, but she nods anyway.

“We went to school together.” She pauses, and it seems like Kara knows she’s not done. “We were kind of… She let me be in love with her,” Lena tries to explain. “It was stupid, but being in love at sixteen usually is.” It’s the first time she’s said it outloud, that she was in love with Veronica, but it’s not like she’s had many people to tell before. Jack, maybe, but she wouldn’t have done that to him.

“I don’t think you can call yourself stupid for loving someone,” Kara says. It’s meant to be soothing, but Lena finds it a little too ironic.

“Darling,” she laughs, because she can’t help it, not the laugh or the pet name, “I’m always stupid for loving people.” She can feel Kara shift against her, like she’s trying to see her face.

“Not always,” Kara says. Lena just sighs, shakes her head, hopes Kara knows that she’s smiling even if it’s fake. “You love me, right?” 

Lena can’t help the way she tenses, though she tries to relax out of it as soon as she feels her muscles clenching. She doesn’t move for a moment, doesn’t speak, feels Kara’s shoulders rise and fall as she breathes.

“Yes, Kara, I do.” She doesn’t add that that only proves her point, that Kara must know that, but she does push herself off the couch. She walks to Kara’s kitchen, looking for something to do that gives her a purpose for getting up. She opens a cabinet above the sink, takes a glass out, fills it with water as slowly as she can. 

When she turns around, Kara is watching her, not quite like Lena expected her to be. There’s something on her face that Lena can’t read. Lena doesn’t meet her eyes, takes a sip of water. As it settles in her stomach, she realizes again that she’s still drunk, that this is truly a stupid thing to be doing.

“That’s not stupid,” Kara says, though it’s been far too long to pick the conversation back up like that. Lena only shakes her head, standing in the kitchen, far enough away that she can create a pane of glass in her head to separate herself from Kara. Kara’s gaze doesn’t drop from her though, she’s still watching her like she wants an answer, like she wants Lena to admit that she’s not pathetic for loving someone who is far too good for her, who will never love her back.

“Kara, please,” she finally says, placing the glass on the open sliver of counter so she can stand in the middle of the room, completely unmoored, her arms hanging too loosely by her sides.

“Don’t make me do this,” Lena says. She hates how pleading she sounds, how desperate, but she only sounds like what she is. 

“Will you just say it, Lee?” Kara asks, begs, and for the first time Lena remembers that Kara isn’t sober either, that she’s not the only one who’s been drinking tonight, that Kara was slipping a flask of something Lena assumes is synthetic or alien from her bag to pour into her drinks at the bar. 

Lena’s throat goes tight. She couldn’t tell Kara, even if she wanted to, and she only shakes her head.

“Fine,” Kara says. “I’ll do it then. I am in love with you, Lena.” Kara’s voice is steady, holds none of the swarming fear Lena feels inside herself. Lena doesn’t have time to brace herself, to hear Kara say the words, and she finds herself shaking her head again. She can see the crumbling resolve on Kara’s face, and it hurts somewhere deeper than her heart.

Still, Kara sits on the couch. She’s leaning toward Lena, and despite the discomfort Lena can see creeping into her face, she holds steady. 

“You won’t scare me away,” Kara says when Lena doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move for almost a minute. Something about that, about Kara knowing exactly what Lena’s most afraid of, spurs Lena into action. She shakes her head. Her voice wavers but she’s not going to cry, she’s not.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Lena says and hates how wet her voice sounds, how desperate she knows she looks, how desperate she is. Kara only shakes her head. She hasn’t moved yet, like she’s waiting Lena out, and of course it works.

Lena sighs, eventually, runs a hand through her loose hair and shifts onto a stool, slumps against the table. 

“Of course I love you, Kara,” she says. “Of course I do.” Kara doesn’t smile, but she does brighten, somehow.

“Well, isn’t it that simple?” she asks. Lena wants to say it’s not, of course it isn’t, that Kara’s far too good for her, but Kara’s looking at her like she knows exactly what she’s thinking and doesn’t care.

“Is it?” she asks weakly. Kara nods, finally gets up from the couch. She crosses the room to Lena and stands in front of her. Lena’s still on the stool. Kara doesn’t touch her, just stands half a foot away.

“Can we just do this, Lee?” she asks. Lena wants to shake her head, wants to say that it’s far too risky, but she can’t bring herself to outright refuse something she wants so badly. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she repeats instead. “I don’t want to lose—” she cuts herself off. She’s not sure if it’s because she doesn’t know how to finish the sentence or if it’s because she does, because she knows that losing Kara to her really would mean losing everything. Kara just shakes her head, though, smiling a little too softly.

“You won’t, though. Or I guess I can’t quite promise that, but even if something happened you’d still have other people. Sam, Winn, Lucy. Alex.” Lena snorts at that, and Kara, for a moment, looks truly surprised.

“I’m serious, Lee,” she says. She pauses, studies Lena. “If you don’t want to do this, though, I understand. If you want to just stay friends, that’s fine. I love you too much to not have you in my life, in whatever way you want to be in it.”

Lena doesn’t answer, just stares at Kara who stares back at her. Kara doesn’t shift, remains steady even under Lena’s pleading gaze, and something in the way she doesn’t break, something in the way she says she loves her in any way, convinces her.

“Okay,” she finally says, and that’s the end of the beginning of it.


End file.
